Funeral Time Baby
by MohShuvuu
Summary: It wasn't a secret that the Condescension hated humans, but then why . . . why did her heart ache so much when her own human died? (Post!Timeline with John Crocker as Condy's son)


She hates humans, always has and always will. They are so frustratingly weak and being around them so much reminds her of home, but not in the way that she would prefer. It's like being surrounded by low bloods, something that she had gone out of the way to avoid. This is what the woman in the back of the crowd is thinking to herself, over and over again like some sort of hateful mantra. There is an area of space around her as people wonder what this seething woman is doing here while also trying to keep their distance, lest she snap at them.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves here. A scene and its sentiments are being described without providing the why or the what. It's forgivable in a way, considering the woman doesn't want to be here either, nor does she want to acknowledge what has happened because it shouldn't bother her as much as it does. He was just another low blood, destined to find their way to the end of her 2X3 dent. At the same time, he was HER low blood and the woman's jaw clenches as this thought pops up in her head. She had never intended to succumb to such Jade blooded feelings, but it happened anyway, and now she felt as if it had been herself who had been culled and not her dear sweet boy. If only he wasn't human. If only he truly had been her grub. At least then his lifespan would have at least matched her.

The crowd has thinned by now, though the woman isn't sure when they had started leaving, so caught up in her own thoughts she was. Still, there are a few mourners remaining and they occasionally look back at the woman who is still standing too far away. They must have been close to her boy, though she can't say that she recognizes any of them. It should make her happy that so many people were close to her boy, or at least were fans of her boy, but it doesn't. The realization just makes her feel cold and alone because he wasn't really her boy anymore.

She wants to wait for everyone to leave before she goes up to see the stone that was set up, to stand surrounded by mourning flowers, to look at the picture of him that was picked out just for this event one last time, mostly because she doesn't trust herself in this situation. Also to ask him about the letter, the one that is currently being crushed in her grip. He won't answer, she knows, but that doesn't stop her from wanting to ask. The wait is frustrating. Only the woman and a blond young man are left. He's been standing by the grave for a long time, not doing anything besides standing there and trying to look cool. This man is the only one who hasn't bothered to look back, knowing that he shouldn't be here and has no right to judge anyone else. In all rights, he should have left an hour ago, with the young woman who had accompanied him. He had meant to really, but the man had found that his legs had turned to jelly and he couldn't find it in himself to move from this spot. It was stupid. He hadn't even known the guy who he'd felt compelled to attend the funeral of.

An hour passed with with neither side moving an inch, and the woman was out of patience. So what if she never got to stand by her child's grave? So what if he never answered her question. It's not that it mattered or that it ever would. She cast one last glare in the direction of his grave before turning around and storming off. Behind her, the young man finally turned and watched her guiltily. He had probably just sent away a legitimate mourner who had wanted to be alone with the grave. Whoops. The man sighed, staring sadly at the comedian's picture and knowing that he should leave. It would be bad taste to stay any longer, so he too decided to take his leave from the graveyard. His companion had probably left already, tired of waiting.

It took the woman longer to get home than it should have. She went out of her way to delay going home, taking every detour that she could get her hands on and even circling her home several times before finally getting fed up and going inside. Like always, it was empty, but the fact seemed so much worse now. She blamed the letter that her boy had sent her shortly before his death, and as soon as she could get the fireplace burning, the woman rid herself of his words forever. She did not bother to watch the paper burn, already having memorized the words. It was for the best to get rid of the evidence. Emotions like this would only make it difficult to finish her job and she would never let all of her hard work go to waste. Still, as she laid her head down to rest, the words of the letter came back to her and she let them come.

"Hi, mom!  
I know that we haven't talked in a long time, and I'm really sorry for that. Life just got busy I guess and you know how easily caught up into things I get. Kinda forgetful too. But I can't stop thinking about things and people lately and I wanted to tell you some stuff before I forget again. I've been doing a lot more forgetting lately. Funny, huh? I've actually forgotten my own name a few times.

But no wait this isn't supposed to be about me! I wrote this letter to be about you and I'm sure you could find out about my life if you really wanted to. You'd probably end up knowing more about me than me since you're so good at that stuff.

I don't know. I'm not really good at all of that mushy stuff so this letter is coming off kind've funny. Sorry! Um, but really, I wanted you to know that you were a really awesome mom and I couldn't ask for a better one if I tried. Don't listen to Jade. It was sad that she left, but that's okay. I hear that she's having a good life, so maybe it was for the best. I know there were some bad times, but everyone has those. You just have to go with it or you'll just get pulled under and drown. And besides, it was really fun to go through them with you.

I want to see you again soon. Kind've embarrassing after this letter, but I miss you. Do you think that you can work me into your busy schedule? There's some more stuff that I want to talk about with you and I don't want to do it through writing.

You know who I am and where to find me!  
- John Crocker"


End file.
